The Bitter Taste of a Familiar Poison

There's a bottle in my cabinet
That'll ease the pain tonight,
There's regret I'd like to forget,
That'll lose in this fight.

Tip it back, let it drip,
And cringe at the very first taste.
Tip it back, then it slips,
And drip turns into pour with haste.

It's barely palatable, and hardly edible,
But when you knock on the reaper's door, it'll do.
It's far from comfortable, and scarcely tolerable,
But the bottle says, "The pain will die with you."

Somehow some way, she knows what's happening inside,
And she dials 911;
Somehow some way, she knows, I'm dying tonight,
And she says help will come.

As my consciousness starts to fade,
The last thing I hear are sirens.
As I didn't want to be saved,
The last thing I do is stick the knife in.

And then come the spasms, seizing over my body,
My hands start to shake, and blood pours over them,
And her face is desperate, she doesn't want this, not me.
My best friend, and she doesn't know what's happening within.

My stomach has now been obliterated,
It's torn to pieces, torn to shreds,
My wish has been communicated,
It's bitter taste's been fed.

But no taste is quite as strong,
As the one that fixed the wrong;
But no taste is quite as bitter, no taste is any better,
Than the one on which x is the only letter.